You fill my pen with ink
For me to write things I couldn't
And to show the other me
Thru the empty sheets of myself.

You are the lampshade
That lights up my canvas
For me to write instead of paint
As you to be my subject.

Now, show me yourself naked
And I can paint you even without colors.
Wear your best dress,
that is your self,
and I can make poetries until eternity.

At least I can repay you
Not with money but with poems
Penned from the sheets of my heart,
Written from the depths of my soul.